There was no choice, thought Rabbi Raphael Mazuz. The battles between the Allies and the Nazi oppressor, who conquered Tunisia, are approaching the city of Tunis. We must escape from the danger zone.
In 1943, World War II is in full swing. The Nazi army quickly took control of Tunisia and began to abuse the Jews, deporting them to forced labor and even trying to send them to the death camps. Now the Allied forces are trying to push him out of the country.
The distress is increasing. Preparations for Passover are mixed with the concern that gnaws at the hearts of Jews. Rabbi Raphael bought a large lamb in the market. He distributed his flesh among his frightened neighbors in order to cheer them up. A few days before the holiday, Rabbi Raphael received a telegram from his friend, Avraham Cohen, from the village of Bardo, a little far from the capital. "Come to us," the friend pleaded. "Stay away from the inferno that is approaching you. It is likely that the capital Tunis will be the center of the battles." Rabbi Raphael examined the matter with great seriousness. He feared for the fate of his family. In the end, he accepted the offer.
The family numbered six people. On the morning of the 13th of Nissan, a large wagon was waiting for them. Their belongings were already arranged on it. The family took their seats, and the wagon driver began to drive quickly.
About twenty minutes later, the wagon stopped. The wagon driver went down to find out the meaning of the malfunction. He discovered that one of the bicycles had been uprooted. With great professionalism, he corrected the problem and continued driving for the benefit of the passengers.
It wasn't long before there was a glitch again. This time, a central screw was disconnected. The skilled hands of the coachman solved the problem quickly. However, the wagon did not travel much, and it went back and forth from its place. The sequence of mishaps didn't make sense. "It's almost a new wagon," complained the wagon driver, "I don't understand the meaning of the many mishaps."
Rabbi Raphael, who until now had sat in his place and read the chapters of Tehillim nonstop, stood up with determination. "We have to go home!" he called out to his family, "There is a hint here from God not to continue the journey. I feel that these are signs from heaven!" The family tried to dissuade him from his intention – in vain. He was firm in his opinion that they should return to Tunis, and so they did. The horses turned around and returned to the city.
The Seder night has arrived. The Jews of the city tried to forget their fear and to focus on the miracles of the Exodus from Egypt. On the morning of the holiday, the silence was still maintained. But the tension was constantly in the air. Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Rabbi Raphael approached her quietly, carefully removed the bolt, opening the door into a narrow crack.
He was very surprised to find the family of his friends from the village of Bardo bursting in. "What happened? Why did you come here in the midst of the holiday?" he asked.
"First of all," Avraham Cohen gasped, "you have to explain why you didn't come to us as planned."
Members of the Mazuz family spoke about the strange mishaps that befell them. The priests reacted with astonishment. "A miracle has happened to you!" cried Avraham Cohen. "A wise man is better than a prophet! Woe to us and to you if you came to us."
And he began to say: "On the eve of Passover, we waited for you to come. When the hours passed and you had not yet arrived, we realized that something had happened, and that it was he who prevented you from coming to us, despite the great danger hovering over your heads in Tunis. Towards evening the bardo received chilling news: the battles were approaching the town! It turned out that, contrary to expectations, the Allies launched an attack on the small town, instead of the capital.
"Indeed, within a short time, the echoes of the explosions were heard. War smoke filled the air. Moments before the start of the holiday, at 5:15 p.m., an alarm sounded, and we all fled to the shelter. Miraculously, we managed to slip into the shelter, and then it happened. A loud explosion was heard above our heads. The noise was terrible.
"We were afraid that we had been hit directly and that the ceiling would immediately collapse above us. We do not need to describe the fear of terror that surrounded us. We shouted 'Shema Yisrael,' whispered the words of the confession, and only after long seconds of anxiety were we able to calm down and look around.
"It turned out that a bomb had indeed hit our house, turning it into a mound of ruins. We managed to extricate ourselves towards the opening, but found it completely blocked. We slipped out through the back doorway. As we left, we went through the kitchen and discovered that it was the only room of the entire house that was still standing. The matzot and the signs of the Seder were not damaged. We gathered some food and set off. We thought about where to escape at this time, and we decided to go to you."
Avraham Cohen finished his story, and there was silence in the house. Everyone tried to digest the significance of the wonderful events that happened here. "If you had come to us," Avraham Cohen broke the silence again, "it is reasonable to assume that the shelter would have been too small to accommodate all of us. We would celebrate the Seder on the top floor, and then, God forbid..."
The story of the miracle of the Mazuz and Cohen family was written down by Rabbi Raphael Mazuz himself and sent to the city of Djerba, which, during the war, was detached from what was happening in the capital. The local people, led by the rabbi of Djerba, Rabbi Kalfon-Moshe Hacohen, and Rabbi Rahamim-Chai Chavita Hacohen, gathered in the synagogue and listened to the reading of Rabbi Raphael's letter. The miraculous rescue gave hope for the victory of the Allied forces and the rapid expulsion of the Nazis from the country, as indeed happened.
